


rebel girls and chocolate

by josiebelladonna



Series: strapping young lady diaries [1]
Category: Bikini Kill (Band), Hole (Band), Punk Rock RPF, Sleater-Kinney
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Accidental Voyeurism, Band Fic, Chocolate, F/F, Finger Sucking, Girl Band, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Feeding, Lesbian Sex, Marijuana, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Oral Sex, POV Lesbian Character, Public Blow Jobs, Riot Grrrl, Semi-Public Sex, Sex and Chocolate, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24360232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josiebelladonna/pseuds/josiebelladonna
Summary: "i believe in the radical possibilities of pleasure, babe."
Relationships: Kathleen Hanna/Original Female Character
Series: strapping young lady diaries [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1781404
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	rebel girls and chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> Here you go, everyone! it's another one shot in some uncharted waters for your viewing pleasure. I have written a couple of lesbian stories before but this one in particular was a lot of fun to write because I love the riot grrrl scene with a passion.  
> Like my Will DuVall one shot, I might have to feel this one out better to find if anything more will come out of it, and I'd love to see more love for Bikini Kill and Sleater-Kinney, too. But in the meantime, enjoy 😘

_May, 1991_.

She was this short slightly chubby woman with her short bob of jet black hair all around her round face and the attitude of Medusa on steroids. Her lyrics were so simple and yet they stung like the venom of a scorpion, like the entry of a pissed off feminist. The way she moved about the small squalid stages there in western Washington under the misty rain and the ramshackle lights; the way she wore those fitted dresses and the way the skirts hugged her hips and her thighs. She had the sort of shriek that could make even the most astute of men fall to his knees.

There was that one song, "I Like Fucking" that I think made the pearl clutchers wet themselves upon thinking about.

But for me, it always made me laugh. The title, so simple and yet so striking. So liberating.

I wanted to be like her—and they even had that one song with that line "she is me, I am her." It was truth to me in a way: she was me, I am her. It helped that she looked like me with her jet black hair: mine was a lot longer, though, longer so as to resemble a mane. I also had that olive skin reminiscent of my Native American heritage.

I stood with Janet there at the back of the room during the show in this tiny wooden shack of sorts: she invited me here because she knew I would like to see them with Bratmobile, and she knew I would write about it afterwards. She took me to ride the rail at Babes in Toyland and L7 the month before and they were not of this world.

She had asked Courtney and Eric to tag along but Hole was doing a show down in San Francisco; here the two of us were up in Olympia attending this little punk show. Carrie and Corin both had to be showing up at some point themselves. This punk show where anybody was welcome to riot against the world at large.

All of us women funneled there in this tiny room, tits to cunt and back again. There was one boy in there and he looked like a garden gnome who couldn't pick up ladies, but we were proud of him for being there.

Bikini Kill took to the stage with their tiny cheap amps the size of bricks of cheese and microphones that looked as though they had thrown to the ground. "Punk rock bowling" as Janet called it. The place did resemble to a bowling alley: old faded paint peeling from the walls and the smell of old shoes wafting in from behind us.

We were wedged in between a pair of shelves and the hinges of a door; I had one hand on the shelf next to my hip to hold onto something before all the girls before us began moshing. I kept one hand on the edge of my leather jacket because I forgot to wear a bra that day. Janet hunched her shoulders even though it wasn't very cold in there at all.

They wasted no time in beginning to play: it was like they were playing with speakers for a place like Dodger Stadium.

They were fast and fuzzy in the vein of all the male punk bands preceding them. But then Kathleen's voice seared over the distortion. It was as if she emerged from another world altogether. I stood there next to Janet in sheer awe at the raw sights and wall of sound before me.

I found myself glassy eyed and entranced as Janet led me closer to the stage. We wove our way through the small crowd of women: Kathleen had on a snug red sleeveless dress with a low neckline and the words "Kill me" written across her chest. She held the microphone up to her mouth with one hand as if she was Madonna crooning out to the crowd before her. She held her other hand down by her waist to accentuate the shape of her hips.

I saw myself in her so much right then. I gazed on at the messy ponytail atop her head as if she wanted a beehive but had very little time to do so; her eyebrows were thick and dark.

She opened her eyes at one point and gazed on at me.

" _She—is me, I am her_ ," she sang to me. I was hypnotized by her even as the girls behind us drowned out underneath the wave of distortion.

Janet and I stood so close to her I could touch her if I wanted.

Their set was short and sweet, much like her. Bratmobile began setting up their equipment when Janet tapped on my should to catch my attention.

"Come with me," she beckoned me with a twinkle in her eye.

Janet led me past some of the girls near the front and garden gnome boy to the edge of the stage: her short shoulder length hair sailed behind her head to where it blended in with the darkness. There, it smelled of stale old pot and baked potatoes but I was eager to congregate there behind the stage with the four of them.

"Kathleen?" Janet called out once we were out of sight of the rest of the crowd and the burgeoning, abrasive sounds of Bratmobile. The small dressing room had a low ceiling of old wood; to the left stood a pair of closets, while to the right was a doorway into another room. A beaded curtain hung down in the doorway to separate us from there.

Kathleen lingered before a nook in the wall and peeled off the dress; she traded it for just her black bra and her panties. I spotted a bunch of dark marks around her thighs and her hips, and it took me a second to realize they were from markers.

"Kathleen!" Janet declared. She raised her head for a look at us. Her face lit up at the sight of us.

"Hey, Jan! Come on in!" she greeted us. Janet guided me towards the lumpy sofa up against the wall behind her. I found myself feeling a little to warm with that leather jacket on me; as Janet took her seat, I stripped it off to show off my black and white striped fitted blouse.

"Oh, cute top!" drummer Tobi remarked as she strode into the room. She had tied her smooth black hair into a tight bun atop her head to keep it off her face and neck. I shrugged and grinned at her in response.

"Hey, Kath, where's the pot at?" she asked.

"I think it's in the back of the fridge, Tobes," Kathleen told her as she put on some powdered deodorant and shook her legs about. "If it's not there, ask Billy." We watched Tobi duck back into the next room, and that was when Kathleen returned to me with her eyebrows raised and a look on her face like a princess.

"Janet and—" She gestured at me.

"What'd you say your name was?" she asked me.

"Jordan. As in Jordan almonds."

"Jordan Almonds sounds like a good punk name," she quipped. "Like you oughta write that down and use it quick, babe." Janet laughed out at that.

"I'm serious!" Kathleen insisted; guitarist Kathi padded into the room with her amp tucked underneath her arm.

"Does Jordan Almonds sound like a good punk name?" Kathleen asked her.

"It fuckin' does," Kathi chuckled at that with a lack of breath. "Short and sweet—like punk rock itself! By the way—" She stopped to catch her breath.

"By the way what?" asked Kathleen.

Kathi gasped and set down her amp on the floor before my feet. She fetched up a sigh and raised her finger towards my face. She looked like she was about to say something to her, but then a slim woman with short platinum blonde hair and a dark dress wrapped about her body entered the room behind her. Her eyes glimmered with life and her red lips were puckered as if she was beckoning a kiss.

"Courtney!" Janet declared.

"Wait a minute, I thought Hole was down in Cali," Kathleen pointed out.

"Yeah, I was gonna say Courtney and Melissa are here," Kathi told us as she continued on to the doorway behind Tobi. The beads clinked against each other as she ducked into the next room.

"Show was postponed," Courtney informed us as she zipped her purse closed. "Patti had to leave real quick without telling us and it was like totally last minute, too."

Tobi returned to the room with a pair of rolled joints in either hand as if she was about to double fist some pot. She raised an eyebrow at me.

"Care for a blow, baby doll?" she offered me as she handed the one in her left hand to Kathleen.

"I'd love to," I said with a tremble to my voice. Kathleen stuck the joint in between her lips.

"Got a lighter, Court?" she asked in a muffled voice.

"I always do," Courtney assured her. She opened her purse again for a little blue lighter. She flicked it open for that minute little flame.

She held before the end of the joint and Kathleen took a huff of the fresh pot. That foul smell filled the room within seconds.

Tobi did the same with the joint in her other hand and took a huff for herself. She closed her eyes and coughed a bit from the heat in her throat. With her lips pursed together, she handed me the joint.

I brought it to my lips as Courtney passed me to sit next to Janet on the sofa. I took a deep huff of the smoke: the paper burned against my tongue. I coughed a bit myself and held the joint before my mouth. I looked up to find Kathleen looking at me with a twinkle in her eye.

"All that pot is makin' me hungry," she confessed. I looked down at her waist and the sight of marker stars scribbled on her pale skin, right over the waist band of her panties.

"You know what sounds really good right now?" I asked her.

"What's that?"

"Chocolate."

"Girls gotta have our chocolate," she teased me with another huff of pot. "We're well acquainted with thirst."

I took my seat there on the arm of the sofa next to Courtney, who took a puff from the joint Tobi had given me. Kathleen meanwhile padded into the next room in search of some chocolate; I then turned to Courtney as she offered the joint to Janet.

"Melissa's here, too?" I asked her.

"She sure is!" she replied with a cough from the dry intense heat of the joint. "I think she and Bill are talkin' to one another outside, though—Eric's back home, too."

Kathleen then poked her head out from behind the beads.

"I found the gold mine in here," she told me as her dark eyes gleamed.

"Hell yes!" I stood to my feet and ambled towards her. The pot left the back of my throat feeling parched and dry: I wanted nothing more than to have some chocolate plus a drink of water.

But I came into the room and found Kathleen taking her seat at the tiny table in the middle of the floor. Before her stood a tin box of what I believed to be chocolates. It was just me and her in there.

She gestured to the chair across from her.

I swallowed, to which my throat felt like sandpaper, but I was cautious in taking my spot there before her. Her eyes watched me as I sank down in the chair: out of the corner of my eye I noticed her looking right at my chest. I wasn't wearing a bra.

Once I had settled, she reached for the tin and opened the lid to reveal a web of dark chocolate squares. Courtney and Janet's voices floated in from the next room as Kathleen reached for the square closest to her. She then held it up as if she was about to give it to me, but she hesitated.

"Come closer," she beckoned me. "We're punk chicks—we've got enough clout with us to last a week."

I sighed through my nose and set my fingers on the edge of the table. I had no idea if it was the marijuana talking or what but I moved my head forward and took a nibble of the corner of the square. I stared into her dark eyes, those same dark eyes that gazed back at me from the stage. It all seemed to happen so fast, but I didn't care. I couldn't care. I couldn't afford to care.

"Jordan—you're so hot, babe," she remarked in a breathy voice. "I don't always see girls who look like me in crowds. And I don't always see girls who are kinda buttoned down, either."

I took another bite to top off the first one, but then she stuck the square into my mouth. I tasted the skin on her fingers: a little salty from sweat but clean. I closed my eyes and took in the chocolate plus the very tips of her fingers. Even with the chocolate in my mouth, I gave her fingers a bit of a lick to return the favor. I lifted my head to better eat up the chocolate to soothe my influenced appetite.

She rubbed her fingers with the pad of her thumb.

"Do that again," she said.

"Do what again?" I asked her as I swallowed the square of chocolate.

"Lick me. I dare ya."

"D'you get a bit'a chocolate of them?" I asked her.

She picked up another square and held onto it for a good long minute before she ate it herself. She then held her hand out towards me.

"I double dare ya," she repeated: smears of chocolate all over her fingers. I leaned my head forward again, and that time with my tongue out. Courtney and Janet laughed about something but I could care less at that point. I had my full attention to the chocolate on her fingers. I put my lips around her index finger to suck it off.

Salty but clean.

I gave her an extra lick before I lifted my head and reached for a square myself. I looked up at her to find her gazing back at me like a dog begging from its owner.

"You want me to return the favor?" I asked her.

"If you wanna. Although I'd double dare ya on that, too."

I swallowed and held the chocolate up to her lips. It was the exact same story there: she took a nibble first, and then took in the whole square plus a bit of my fingers. I licked my lips when I felt her tongue caressing around the contours of my fingers.

My heart hammered inside of my chest. I had to do something.

"Let's embrace sex instead of drugs," I declared. She swallowed the chocolate and lifted her head, and showed me a mischievous smile.

"Yes! Fuck yes!"

She ducked down to the floor and sat flat on her ass there on the linoleum. Courtney said something as the smell of pot continued to waft into the room there.

But I followed Kathleen down as she spread her legs for me.

I was reluctant but I reached down to the hem of my blouse and stripped it off.

A thumping kick drum caught my attention: Bratmobile was about to go on and bring down the house. But we were about to bring down the house in another fashion.

I lay my blouse on the chair behind me and let my bare tits hang out before me.

“Goin' commando to a punk show, I see!” she declared.

“I just kinda forgot,” I insisted as I loomed in closer to her. “So—you wanna tongue or fingering?”

“Well, since you were so good with the tongue, have at it, babe,” she commanded me. “I believe in the radical possibilities of pleasure, babe.”

I reached for the waist band of her panties and peeled them off. I was exposed to her bare lips, clean and fresh just for me. It was as if she knew I would be here with her.

I bowed my head and stuck out my tongue.

I started out small, there on the rim of her lips, and then I dug my way inside.

“Yeah—yeah!” she gasped. “Yeah, like that, babe!”

I caught a whiff of her deodorant, that powdery fresh smell emanating from the interior of her thighs and from underneath her armpits. I looked down to find her lips enriching with that lush red color. I went in deeper with my tongue.

Kathleen groaned in euphoria. She set a hand on the back of my head to keep me there. I could feel myself growing moist at the feeling and the sight right before my face.

Bratmobile drowned out the sound of her hitting the climax, but I made her get off.

“Alright, you li'l slut—lemme do you!” she exclaimed over the abrasive music on the other side of the wall. I lifted my head to show her my chest.

“I'm gonna make you come so hard,” she told me as she reached for my bare nipples. “Jordan almonds—like how punk rock should be. Short and sweet and to the point—” My dark nipples hardened into points as she said that. She then moved her head forward to kiss me right on the point. I was moistening even more at the feeling.

She kissed me all the way up my chest to my collar bones and my neck. Her lips brushed over my skin like the tips of feathers; when she reached my ear, she hung there. Even though she didn't kiss me, I could sense her tongue before the outer rim of my ear.

“You're gonna smell like Teen Spirit, babe,” she whispered over the music.

She shoved me down onto my back. I lay there helpless as she stripped off my jeans and revealed my panties and my bare legs.

Nowhere to go except the feeling of her tongue on my lips.

She was a pro at it. One didn't sing and shriek like her without a velvet tongue like that.

Every lick was swift and to the point, but it was enough to get me off in no time.

She then climbed over me and straddled my chest.

“Oh, so we're gonna do this two ways now?” I asked her in a broken voice. She lifted herself up to look at me upside down.

“You know you wanna, Jordan, babe—I double dare ya!”

The pot left me feeling thirsty for her lips even more. She lay down upon me so I could lick her again.

Our tongues at the same time.

I was going to come again when I spotted Kathi standing there on the other side of the room with a stunned look upon her face.

But I knew I was going to get off again regardless.

I took out my tongue to mess with Kathleen a bit. I knew she would come and I took out my tongue to stunt it.

She gasped and let out a loud groan over the music. I did it!

I came again with she fondled my lips with the same index finger I licked chocolate from: I let out a low, guttural groan as she rolled off of me onto the linoleum. Kathi never moved from her spot there on the other side of the room.

Panting, I lay there for a moment to ruminate about what had happened. But then again, I also wanted a drink of water to ease the parched feeling in the back of my throat. I hoisted myself onto my hands and gazed on at Kathi, who had picked up Kathleen's dress from the counter behind her.

Bratmobile ended their song which was then followed by applause. Courtney said something, and then I realized she and Janet were talking to Melissa. Party was over: time to get dressed.

I reached for my panties and my jeans and turned to Kathi.

“Don't tell anyone,” I said to her.

“I won't,” she mouthed at me and flashed me a wink.


End file.
